


Child at Heart

by avigil



Series: Tales from the Wasteland [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avigil/pseuds/avigil
Summary: Charon takes a few moments to think about his life and how it's changed since traveling with the Lone Wanderer...when he's not being dragged into dangerous situations throughout the Capital Wasteland, that is.





	Child at Heart

Charon sat quiet for a moment, listening to the dry gritty wind whistle and creak against the massive metal behemoth that was Rivet City. The night air smelled of the rot of the wasteland, yet there was still that sweet twinge of summer evening lingering. The blistering sun was long gone, and the sky was full of starlight. The way things had been going, he really hadn’t been sure if he was ever going to see the sky like this again, seeing as how the Underworld ghouls had to live. Sure, it had been quiet and peaceful, but still there was something…stifling about it. Thinking about it dredged up memories of dust and servitude, and the bitter taste he got on what was left of his tongue at the thought of Ahzrukhal, the man who had held his contract before…  
Before her.  
The kid lay silent where she had dropped, clearly exhausted from the long walk. She had told Charon she wanted some air and was going out onto the deck above so there was no need to follow her, but he had anyway. Did she not get what a bodyguard’s job was? Rivet City may be the most secure city in the capital wasteland according to Harkness, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he was gonna let her go wandering off on her own like that. She’s been by herself this long, you shouldn’t underestimate the kid…  
Regardless, the moment she sat down on the grated floor near the edge, below that glittering green-blue sky, her eyes drooped closed and she was out cold. Since he wasn’t confident that he wouldn’t wake her in trying to carry her down somewhere inside for a more comfortable bed he let her rest with her head in his lap as she breathed slow and even against him. He felt… sorry, perhaps? This was a kid in the literal sense, just sixteen and far from a mature adult in the things she had seen and what she had yet to learn. She was trusting and talkative. Not to mention a vault childhood was the envy of everyone out wandering the wasteland with its safe heavy doors and abundance of food, and she wore a great yellow 101 so everyone knew. It was a surprise she had any caps to her name, or hadn’t met a worse fate with some spineless slavers. There were too many people out there just looking to get by the easiest they could, and those perceived as easy pickings were the first to go out. This he knew too well.  
The first time she came slinking into Underworld she was limping something awful and had lost a lot of blood courtesy of the supermutants stalking the Washington Monument, and Charon still had to suppress a huff at the sight of not just another nosy smoothskin, but essentially who he initially thought to be a toddler in an armored jumpsuit all coddled and loved. She was going to be food for something nasty and full of rads, he was sure.  
Boy, had he been wrong on that one.  
He knew very well how the kid had obtained his contract. It was clear as day once he watched her count to caps she kept in her pack, seeing how they all fit in one palm. She was a kid from a locked box underground with a gun and not nearly enough caps to do any haggling with the likes of Ahzrukhal, yet she had gotten the pig to hand him over. Why? Had she been in need of an extra gun that bad? Certainly it was a plausible idea, but it didn’t seem like the right answer. Following her, it became clear immediately that while she appeared aloof skipping about like a child she was truly the kind of her person who thought their crimes through before embarking. A smile tugged at his lips at the memory of her trying to make small talk on their first meeting.  
“Oh come on you big brute, aren’t you the friendly door-greeter?”  
“Talk. To. Ahzrukhal”.  
“Ugh, jesus you let me pass out? Charon, what time is it?” She yawned out, startling him from his moment of introspection. Only able to shrug in response, Charon helped her sit up slowly as she swung her short arms up to stretch. “You okay?” Her smile was wide and toothy, her front teeth a tad crooked and her upper lip dotted with freckles. “Sure I am. Inside?” She nodded.  
“We shouldn’t stay here long. We got places to be!” Her straggly hair bounced in curly wisps as she skipped on her heels to wake her legs up a bit. Damn, that Underworld “stylist” really did a number on her head. She had about at as much hair as he did.  
There was a moment of silence, her eyes lingering on her face, before her cheery demeanor too slid away. “Seriously, you okay?” She asked again.  
There was no way she hadn’t seen it- the questioning look of uncertainty leaking through his ghoulish features. Many people had held his contract in the past and, well, none were like Letta. No one looked at him like she did, any nobody asked him if he was okay as many times as she did. He couldn’t tell if it was getting on his nerves or if perhaps it was just a feeling he was unfamiliar with. That feeling of uncertainty seemed to pull on his heart, but he nodded once again with an affirmative grunt. “It’s a long walk back to Megaton.” One eyebrow of her’s peaked up, and she held out a small hand for him to grab. “Whatcha hungry for?” 

Gary’s Galley was quiet at such early hours, but Angela was lazily making her way about the tables with sleep still in her eyes. “Welcome to Gary’s…”  
“You still got any of those mirelurk cakes? I’d like a couple for the road.”  
Angela nodded stiffly. As she turned away, Letta spun about to give Charon that same toothy grin. “Kid, don’t waste your caps on mirelurk shit…”  
“You like the ones they make here, so I’m grabbing you some.”  
If Charon’s cheeks hadn’t been the same color as the leather armor on his back he was sure he would be red as an underripe mutfruit.  
“Seriously, don’t waste your caps on me kid.”  
“What if I want to?” She huffed, paying Angela for the greasy brown bag of mirelurk cakes with what he was sure was half her caps. She pulled one from the bag, took a quick bite, and quickly pushed it up against Charon’s cracked lips.  
“Come on, like you said we have a lot of walking to do.”  
"This kid is gonna be the end of me…"  
Someday he’d ask. Someday he’d know his purpose.  
But for now, of course, he’d just have to try and keep up.


End file.
